


Hostage (WTFuture)

by ToffeeFifi



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Blue Rebellion, Character Death, Coming to terms with scars, Fluff and Angst, Green Rebellion, Gun Violence, M/M, Matt is not a narcissist, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Jon, Monster Tom, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Paultryk, Physical Therapy, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purple Rebellion, Ringo slips in a couple times, Slow Burn, Tom Is A Sweetheart, Tom has slight PTSD, Tom plays the acoustic guitar and sings, Tord Is A Sadist, Tord plays the ukulele, WTFuture, late night rambles, rebellion AU, violence in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:20:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToffeeFifi/pseuds/ToffeeFifi
Summary: I wanna be alone. Alone with you, does that make sense?I wanna steal your soul. And hide you in my treasure chest.His fingers brushed against the strings of the bass, letting the sound revertebrate in his ears. The small solitude he was rewarded with was sweet.I don't know what to do. To do with your kiss on my neck.I don't know what feels true. But this feels right so stay a sec.Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec.The warm husky breath hitting his neck made him shiver as he lay in the bed, eyes wide open, and the kiss placed on his lips still very fresh and tangible. Tom didn't know why he had given the commie his permission.You're all I wanted. Just let me hold you...Six years after the incident with the robot. Six years, and Tord still hadn't learnt his lesson. His hunger for power remained unchanged, and his thirst for capturing Tom only grew. Too bad his 'old friend' hated him with a burning passion....or did he?Like a hostage.





	1. When The Going Gets Tough

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [My little test subject](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11894331) by [Flower1815](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flower1815/pseuds/Flower1815). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord is in love with Tom and makes him his co-leader right under him.
> 
> Aka how many times can author change the title and description of this story before people begin to notice it?
> 
> ~~Help me I want my work noticed~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, this is my first Eddsworld fic on this site. Hopefully I know how to do words good and not make it seem like the worst grammar ever.

Tom sat in the hospital bed, listening to the quiet but irritating beeping of the heart monitor, as he picked at his bandages. He was stuck, with no way out, and worst of all....he was injured. Knowing with how smart Tord was, him being the leader and all, Tom knew there was no way of escaping. He had to go along with whatever the communist told him to.

The adult lifted his head at the sound of the door opening and turned his nose up in repulse at the sight of Tord, or better known as the Red Leader. "How are you feeling, Thomas?" He questioned, lacking any emotion in his expression.

 

"Fuck off, commie." Tom snarled back, averting his gaze from the other. Tord just chuckled and sat on the side of the bed, much to the Brit's despise, and looked out of the window.

It had been, what, seven years since the two had had actual contact. They each went their separate ways and moved on from the robot incident. But of course, Tord had to be clinging onto the past and had to pay his friends a third visit. Edd had been absolutely outraged at the fact that the Norwegian even had the nerve to return after what he did to them, promptly slamming the door in his face after that. Matt was much more confused as to why Tord had come back, but refused to let him back into their lives.

 

Tom clenched the bedsheets in anger, anxiety creeping its way into his mind; he knew Tord was planning something. Something even bigger than the robot. Perhaps he really did want to conquer the world, and his first steps were to crush him and the others. Tord had caught them in a surprise and set off a detonation in the mall. It went from Dirdum Lane, to Central Beckham and soon the entirety of England was under the Red Army's capture.

 

"Nice to know you're doing okay." He sarcastically shot. His eyes scanned Tom's frail figure, the amount of bandages he had to be wrapped up in so he wouldn't bleed out. God, he looked so vulnerable. "Once you are discharged, I want you to drop by my office."

 

Tom let out a snort as he leaned into the hood of the bed, shutting his empty eyes as he snapped back a response. "Like I'll ever pay you a visit."

Frowning as he got off the bed and retreated to the door, Tord gripped onto his overcoat and glared at Tom with his dark brown eyes. "It wasn't a suggestion, Thomas." He snarled, leaving the room. Once he was sure the other was out of earshot, Tom let out an exasperated groan as he slammed his head into the walls of the room. Life fucking sucked right now.

 

His hands curled into a fist when he began to think about his friends. They must be so worried about him, Edd especially. Tom vowed on his life that no matter what it took, he would bring Tord to his knees and makes him pay for what he did.

 

Now? Now the sedatives were working on him and he was becoming drowsy. The names of each of them were a spinning frenzy in his mind as he fought for consciousness.

 

Edd...Matt...Matt....Edd...

 

_EddMattEddMattEddMattEddMatt..._

 

**Tord.**

* * *

It had taken him two weeks to recover from his wounds, but he was still confined to that stupid small room. Tord hadn't payed him any visits, which was strange; that fucker always wanted to see whether Tom was even conscious or not.

 

The void eyed adult tossed a tennis ball onto the wall, sat on the very hospital bed he had been stuck on, munching on some of his lunch from hours ago. The bread was dry, but it was food, and it was enough.

 

_Bonk..._

 

Catching the ball with his left hand, Tom eyed the color with a frown. Green. It reminded him too much of his friends. He...missed them. Tom looked up into the ceiling as he wiped away a tear, hoping to god they were okay. He flinched when he heard the locks on his door opening, wondering briefly if Tord had finally remembered about him. His hopes were deflated when Tom noticed the brown tufts of hair peeking through the door; Paul was just coming to check on him.

"Red Leader requests for you to be in his office in precisely ten minutes." The 28 year old droned, leaving the room and keeping the door unlocked. It had taken Tom a few minutes to snap out of his trance, the tennis ball had already been discarded and was currently rolling across the room. Tord was actually letting him out of the room?

 

Scrambling to his feet and grabbing some clothes out of the wardrobe, Tom began to get dressed; well aware of how impatient the other was. He was sure that Tord could possibly shoot at the wall if someone was two minutes late to the deadline. Quickly tying up his overcoat, Tom made his way to the door and clicked the door open, anxiety washing over him as he did so.

 

Finally making it to Tord's office, Tom raised his hand to knock, noticing it was shaking out of control. Wait...why was he so scared? It was just the damned commie. He had spent three years sleeping in the same room as him, why would this be any different? Oh yeah, Tord was murderer, that's why.

 

Just as he was about to make contact with the door, he heard a voice from the other side calling him to come in. "Tom, you're late." He slowly clicked the door open and lifted his head to make eye contact with the Norwegian, who was perched on his heightened seat, arms folded at his lap and a smirk on his face.

 

"The fuck do you want?" Tom groaned, pulling himself into a chair and watching as the other leaned closer into him.

 

"Are you aware of how long you've been here, Thomas?" Tord asked, his accent becoming thicker the more he spoke. To be honest, it gave Tom the shivers whenever he said his name like that, but he rolled his empty eyes and crossed his arms in response.

 

"You don't have the privilege to call me that." He snarled. "And you know that I've only been here for two weeks."

 

Tord just shook his head and gave a frown, passing Tom his phone. "Three weeks. You were unconscious for a week after that explosion. I believed you were dead until we hooked you up to the monitor."

 

Tom raised an eyebrow at the date, confused at how fast time had gone. Lifting his head to look at the Norski, Tom pushed the phone back onto the desk and frowned. "Too bad for you, huh?" He jeered.

 

"Yes." Tord snarled as he gripped onto his phone, shoving it into his pocket. "Too bad."

 

"So what did you call me for?" Tom questioned, picking at his tie, quite irritated that Tord had forced him to wear. The Norwegian lit up when he heard that, and smiled at the 24 year old.

 

"Well, you see Tom, I wanted to give you a little promotion." Tord said, feeling his heart bubble up in satisfaction when Tom looked absolutely confused.

 

"Wait...wha...promotion?" Tom stumbled in his own words. "But I barely even work here, what the _fuck_."

Tord just gave him a curt nod and instead slipped a badge across the desk. "I am aware." He replied, matter off factly. "I am promoting you to be my second in command."

 

Tom gazed down at the golden badge that was in his hands, fiddling with it as his bandaged palm shook vigorously. It had his name embedded into it.

 

_Tom_

 

Not Thomas. Not Tommy. Just....Tom. The eyeless man lifted his head to look back at Tord, who was busy putting some files away. "And what if I refuse?" It was difficult to get the words out of his mouth, knowing how Tord never took no for an answer.

 

The Norwegian paused as he pushed a file into a drawer, his single working eye lifting to make eye contact with the other. A smirk worked his way onto his face as he straightened his position, lightly dusting his coat as he did so. "I know you won't agree with my terms, but I also know that you will soon become desperate." Tord answered, clicking the lamp off as he got out of his seat. "You don't have a choice, Thomas."

 

Damnit, he had said his full name again. Tom gripped onto the badge as he followed Tord out of his office, fiddling with the metal. Him, being the second in command of the Red Army, right under Tord? It didn't seem possible to him, he didn't even think Tord would ever give him a place in the army. "What does a second in command do?" He hummed out of curiousity.

 

Listening to Tord click the lock on his office door, Tom let his eyes fall to the ground to avoid eye contact. "Paperwork. And a damn lot of it." Tord responded, and the man could just hear the smirk in his voice. "You start Monday. I'll inform Paul and Patryk not to push you into your room until then." The ginger announced, making his way down the hallway and leaving Tom standing outside his office. "Feel free to wander the base~"

 

Tom managed to gag at the way Tord had said that sentence and watched as his figure disappeared. He let out a deep sigh as he gazed down at the badge. Was it the right thing to do? He didn't want to betray his only friends to join the army.

 

Maybe he could deceive Tord. He could get into contact with Edd and Matt, and maybe tell them-

 

No.

 

That wouldn't work. Frowning as he clipped the badge onto his shirt, Tom made a way for the cafeteria to grab some actual food, his mind racing with ways to escape this prison. He had no idea what was going on in that devil's mind, but he sure as hell knew it wasn't good news.

* * *

The first time Tom had bumped into Tord was in the main campus. He had actually gotten curious of all the trainees and was watching them from above, when the Red Leader had sneaked up on him.

 

"Tom."

 

The aforementioned man jumped slightly, losing balance on the railings and letting his elbow fall to his side, almost hitting his face on the metal. "Uh, T-Tord...what, um..what are you doing here?" He stuttered, trying to pull off a cool stance. It failed as he couldn't managed to hide his nervousness.

 

"I was going to ask what you were doing here." Tord replied, a smile on his face as his hands were folded behind him.

 

Tom's eyes scanned the other for any weapons, but it didn't seem like Tord had been carrying one around, so he let his grip on the balcony slip. "Just checking things out. No need for concern." He sputtered, feeling his heart race as he watched the other's expression turn to one of amusement.

 

"Are you _scared_ of me, Thomas?" Tord questioned, absorbing any of the male's fears as he felt like a god above him. He payed attention to Tom as he straightened his posture and puffed his chest out to seem tough with a smirk.

 

"I thought I told you not to call me that, commie." Tom snarled, attempting to conceal any of his panic. It seemed to convince Tord as the man turned on his heel and left him.

* * *

The second time he had bumped into the Red Leader, Tom had been sneaking through the archives. He wanted to know anything and everything about the Red Army's history and what the heck was up with Tord.

 

Speaking of the devil in red, he had announced himself without making a sound. "What are you doing?" He called. Tom promptly shut the book that he was currently reading to face the other.

 

"The hell do you care?" The man shot, standing on his feet and pushing past Tord. He managed to hide his anxiety as he rushed up the stairs, hesitating when the Norski spoke up.

 

"You know, if you wanted a book you could have asked me." Tord called, watching as Tom left without a word. Listening to the swinging of the doors, the ginger looked down at his hand, now replaced with a prosthetic one, and clenched it. "Tom, you have no idea how _alive_ you make me feel." He chuckled, before clicking the lights off and making his way back into his room.

 

When lights out had been announced, Tom had locked his door from the inside and kept a spare flashlight from the janitor's closet in his possession. Sitting up right on his bed as his back leaned against the cold wall, Tom's eyes scanned the passage, constantly taking in information as he read.

 

The more he read, the more he noticed that with the amount of knowledge he knew about the army, he could possibly be killed if he betrayed them. It was terrifying. Tom sighed lightly as he let his glance slip off the book and onto the ceiling. He really wished Edd and Matt were doing okay without him. Closing the book and placing it under his bed, Tom stretched out before getting under the covers. He was going to be on duty tomorrow, and Tord had told him that he had to be awake early.

 

He did not sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't that bad actually.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, this story is inspired by others that are like it. I forgot the title of this one fic, but I'll put it up once I find it. Thanks for reading, and we'll be back in the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> If you want to draw fanart for this, feel free. You don't have to ask me for permission!


	2. The Tough Gets Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edd misses Tom and becomes a depressed mess while Matt tries to get him to move out of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and alternate between their point of views, but if there is an interesting part, I will delay the alternation to keep the chapter going.

Two months.

 

That's how long it has been since Tom went missing. A month since they found out that he was working under Tord now. The young adult could barely believe that his eyeless friend was willingly going along with the Red Leader's plans, then he realised Tord had probably blackmailed him. Said something about hurting him and Matt. He knew how overprotective Tom was over his friends, so the brunet came to the conclusion that they weren't getting him back any time soon. Leaning against the makeshift window, the adult let out a sigh of frustration.

 

Edd looked up at the grey stricken sky, his usual smile curved into a frown. Tord had taken Tom into captivity. He let out a growl as his fingers wrapped around the sheet of metal that was under him, cutting deep into his skin. The 24 year old jumped when he heard his friend calling him.

 

"Edd...?"

 

The male's hazel eyes looked to the ground, listening to the dripping of the rain against the walls. He let out a soft chuckle as his expression darkened.

 

"We need to go to war, Matt."

He listened to the strawberry blond beside him place a mug onto his desk before joining him. Frowning. Matt was frowning. Edd hated it when the other frowned, Matt usually tried to keep the base lighthearted while Edd was the brains of the situation. "Edd, you haven't eaten a full meal in days. You _need_ to eat." He announced.

 

Edd's eyes only glanced over the food before turning back to the sky that was now raining. It always rained, of course. It was only England, after all. "Don't you want him back, Matt?" He questioned, gripping onto the metal. "Don't you want... ** _Tord_** to suffer for what he did? He's killing innocent people! He doesn't deserve to be alive, I should be the one to end him. I should...I-I...should...oh god..."

 

Matt caught on that Edd was having another panic attack and quickly acted. "Hey, hey. It's okay. Breathe in.." He gently advised. "You okay with me touching you?"

 

The brunet took in a sharp breath as he squeezed his eyes shut and nodded shakily. "Y-yeah.." Edd managed to whimper. God, he hated it when he worked himself up so much! Breathe, Edd, _breathe_!

 

"You're doing good. In for two and out on four, remember?" Matt gently hushed, wrapping his hands around the other's and carefully pulled his friend away from the window. He managed to seat Edd on his desk and continued to coax the other out of his panic, grabbing some spare bandages and antibiotics from the drawer.

 

Edd let out a gentle gasp when he finally broke out of his panic attack, frantically brushing away any tears. "S-Sorry...again..." He sheepishly mumbled. This was almost a daily activity; Edd would get worked up about Tom's capture and Matt would soothe him through it.

 

Grinning up at the other as he gently got some cotton balls out of the first aid kid, Matt pressed onto Edd's cuts to get the blood out of the way. "Of course!" He replied. "Its not your fault, you know."

 

"H-Huh?" The male blinked, looking down at his friend. Matt had focused his attention on tending to Edd's wounds and didn't look up when he spoke.

 

"Y'know...Tom's capture." Matt slowly continued, hoping that Edd wouldn't fall into another panic attack; letting out a soft sigh when the brunet didn't. "I always see you muttering under your breath about how nothing would have happened if you had just kept watch."

 

Edd opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly shut down by Matt. "Ah, I don't want to hear it. You're going to eat this meal that the cooks prepared especially for you, then you're going to meet me downstairs and we are going to help our soldiers." Matt firmly announced, gently wrapping the bandages around the other's palm. "Sound good?"

 

The 24 year old bit on his lip nervously, he didn't want to just sit somewhere. He wanted to _do_ something. But Matt had been trying so hard to help Edd...maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he returned the favor? Edd managed to give him a minute nod, standing up once the blond was done. "Sounds like a solid plan." He smiled weakly.

"Great. I'll give you some time to get dressed." Matt smiled, placing the kit back into the drawer to use another time. "Make sure you eat!" He called, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him. Once he was sure the blond was gone, Edd let out a sigh, glancing down at his bandaged hands. He really needed to stop breaking down so much.

 

_Gruuuumbleeee~...._

 

Hah. He was really hungry. Turning to look at the plate as he picked it up, Edd exhaled through his nose. Matt really was the sweetest. He even made Edd's favourite breakfast! The brunet felt a smile curve onto his face as he dug right in, feeling confident about himself.

* * *

"Any updates?"

 

Matt smiled at the voice of his friend as he looked up from the map. Edd was smiling happily as he pulled his coat on, something he only ever did if he ate properly. "Nice meal?" He called, rolling the map up and setting a checker board over it so it wouldn't unroll.

 

The 24 year old chuckled lightly as he made his way over to the other, leaning gently against the counter. "That wasn't the question, Matt. But, yeah...It was nice." Edd answered with a nod.

 

"We've got nothing so far. Whatever he's planning, the bastard is doing a good job at staying under the radar." Matt called, tossing something Edd's way. The brunet managed to catch it before it dropped onto the floor and gazed at it; a radio. "I've got to go and head out with some of the others. Are you okay with staying behind and helping?"

 

Edd shakily looked up at his friend and forced a smile, shoving the radio into his pocket. "Y-Yeah, I'll be fine." He replied, wincing when the strawberry blond frowned and crossed his arms.

 

"Edd, please don't lie to me." Matt softly said, looking the other in his hazel eyes. He watched as Edd fumbled with the buttons on his coat before the brunet let out a grumble.

 

"I guess...I'm worried something will happen..." He admitted, smiling sadly when Matt gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

Matt's amber eyes scanned the other's figure until they settled on the radio in his pockets. "You can call me if you feel something is wrong." He suggested. "Even if you have a panic attack, you call and I'll help."

 

Edd slowly wiped at the tears before giving the blond a firm nod. "Alright. Sorry, Matt." He replied, pulling away from him. "Just...be careful, alright?"

"I promise I'll be back before sundown." Matt nodded, gently letting go of Edd's hands. "Oh, you're needed down in the weaponry sector!"

 

Edd managed to chuckle a bit at that; they always had a problem going down in the weaponry sector. It had to do something with the new trainees. "I'll get headed right away." He said, briefly waving at Matt before rushing down the hall to meet up with his soldiers.

 

Gunshots rang across the hallway that came directly from the shooting range. There were about 20 new recruits, some young and some old. One in particular wasn't really shooting the target and instead held the gun in a shaky hand.

 

"Trouble?"

 

The young girl jumped at the sudden voice before becoming a stuttering mess at the face of the leader. "G-Green Leader!" She stammered. The man in front of her sighed as he gently took the pistol out of her hands.

 

"How many times do I have to tell you new recruits not to call me that?" Edd grumbled, lifting the pistol about an arms length away from himself. "You may call me Green, if you like. But do **not** call me Green Leader. Understand?"

 

The girl gave him a shaky nod as she fiddled with her shirt, watching as the man pulled the trigger and pulled a straight headshot on the cardboard target.

"Don't pause for a second. If they see you hesitating, they will shoot." Edd harshly advised. "If you want to make it onto the battlefield, I suggest you work on your aim."

 

The girl fiddled more with her shirt and it was only until then that the brunet realised how much she was shaking. Edd let his grip on the trigger disappear and sighed. "You good?" He asked, receiving a shake of the head.

"I-I've never killed someone before, sir." She mumbled, as Edd gently kneeled in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

"Hey. Neither have I." The adult admitted, frowning slightly. "None of us are prepared for a full on war, but we know that when the time comes, we _have_ to. To make sure everyone gets a happy ending."

 

Edd watched as the girl fiddled with the pistol and smiled at her. "Be strong, I know you will be great." He said, giving her a small pat on the back as he pushed himself up. He began to leave to continue with some paperwork in his office and raised a hand. "Take a break in fifteen minutes. I don't want anyone losing rest."

 

Once he had gotten out of everyone's line of sight, Edd let his facade drop as he sighed and pushed his hands into his coat pockets. Listening to the dripping of the rain against the metal ceiling, the brunet made his way up the stairs with one thing on his mind.

 

It was his job to make sure Tom returned home unscathed.


	3. Can't Be Tamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tord sat at his desk, an object in each hand as he tapped his foot gently against the wooden floors of his office room. A frown was painted onto his face as he glared at both objects, his mind spinning with thoughts.
> 
>  
> 
> In his left hand was the contract to his army. It held all the information about where they were going to invade and how they were going to do it. Tord had signed it many years ago after the previous Red Leader had been executed, and his signature was at the bottom, appearing to be fresh. This was where it began for the 27 year old, a signed contract and the ownership to an entire army.
> 
>  
> 
> In his right, was a photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay  
> So  
> I've seen a few videos about this fandom and I've gotta clear a few things.  
> 1) Do **not** correspond the characters with their real life counterparts. If you want to ship two people, ship the characters. Do not go harassing people just to appease yourself. They are human beings like us, not puppets for us to use. This being said, do not associate these characters with their real counterparts, this story is based on the characters.  
> 2) Do **not** harass people to join the fandom, everyone has their preferences and it won't help if you pressure them into something they don't want to get into.  
> 3) Do **not** tag this story to any of the Eddsworld creators, this was made for entertainment purposes only. I do not want to burden them with the horrible fandom it has.  
> 4) Yes, I am aware there are good people in the fandom who produce amazing works, but they are overshun by the bad and that is disappointing.
> 
> Take this with a light heart and enjoy the chapter.

Tord sat at his desk, an object in each hand as he tapped his foot gently against the wooden floors of his office room. A frown was painted onto his face as he glared at both objects, his mind spinning with thoughts.

 

In his left hand was the contract to his army. It held all the information about where they were going to invade and how they were going to do it. Tord had signed it many years ago after the previous Red Leader had been executed, and his signature was at the bottom, appearing to be fresh. This was where it began for the 27 year old, a signed contract and the ownership to an entire army.

 

In his right, was a photo. A photo that he and the others had taken when they were 15, too young to know how fucked up the world was. The glass frame had been shattered in the corner, due to the Norwegian tossing it in anger after the robot incident. He had been in a fit of rage after Paul and Patryk retrieved him from the neighborhood.

 

His frown deepened as he looked over the faces of his 'old friends', comparing the differences to their current selves. Edd seemed his bubbly and cheerful self as he sat on the shoulders of Matt, who was sharing a similar grin. Both men were no longer cheerful all the time, but focused on strategies and plans to evade his army. They still wore their signature clothing, but often covered them up with a jacket of some sorts. Beside them stood Tom, who was simply smirking at the camera and throwing the finger, to which Tord chuckled. Classic stupid Tom.

 

The man's silver eyes gazed over to his younger self, his frown returning as he brushed a hand over the frame. In the photo, Tord was sticking his tongue out at the camera and doing the bunny ears behind Tom. Those two never seemed to get along with each other, but at times could be the perfect destructive team.

 

Wait.

 

 _Destructive_. Tord's frown curved into a sly smirk as a plan began to form in his mind. He currently had Tom working under him, and he knew how much the Brit loved to shoot things. The ginger looked up at the ceiling as his deviant smile widened, chuckling under his breath. This would be the perfect plan.

 

Tord lifted his head at the sound of a knock on his door and quickly put the two objects into his drawer, fixing his posture. "Come in." He called, watching as the door swung open and Tom walked in.

 

The man was currently clutching a pile of papers as he made his way over to Tord's desk, slamming it onto the table and looking deep into his eyes. "Just came in. You want me to sign _all_ of this?" Tom questioned, turning his nose up and snorting. "You can fuck off if you think I'm gonna spend all day in a room."

 

Tord simply laughed as his hand brushed over the paper, his eyes scanning what it was about before he turned to face the 25 year old. "Say what you must, Tom, but I won't change my mind. You are my second in command which means you still answer to me." He answered, before waving his prosthetic arm towards the door. "And please shut the door, I prefer it to be closed while we discuss the matters at hand."

 

Tom huffed and made his way towards the door, closing it and returning to the Norski. "So what do you suggest we do, oh Red Leader?" He mocked as he patted the huge pile of papers. "Sign all of this until I rot away?"

 

Snorting in response, Tord parted the pile into two pieces and brought a chair beside him. "You will sign half and I will sign half." He proposed, pushing Tom's pile to his side.

 

"What, you like paperwork all of a sudden?" Tom queried, pulling the chair towards him and taking a seat before pulling out a pen from the pen holder. "Thought you preferred to kill people you betrayed."

 

Rolling his one visible eye, Tord signed off the first paper and put it aside before pulling the next towards him. "We have spoken about this, Tom. I promised not to hurt your friends."

 

" _My_ friends, eh? So they never were _your_ friends." Tom muttered, signing a few and placing them to the side. The two of them worked in utter silence after that, the only noise emitting from the room being pen on paper and said paper being shuffled around.

 

Tord lifted his head to gaze at Tom while he worked, noticing that the other's movements were rapid as he furiously signed each paper. He was angry with Tord, and he knew it. Sighing in defeat, the Norwegian raised his right arm and gave a smirk. "I have to admit, you have a pretty good aim." Tord announced, watching as the other lifted his head in curiosity. "Took my whole arm clean off."

 

Tom's void of eyes scanned the red arm before giving off a smirk of his own, leaning against the desk as he replied. "Why thank you commie, I was actually aiming for your heart. Seems like you got lucky."

 

Letting his arm falling limp at his side, the Norwegian scanned Tom's figure before smirking slightly, a plan forming in his mind. "What would you do if I told you I could put you on front for our next battle?" Tord suggested, gazing down to finish signing. "It would be far from Matt and Edd, you have my word."

 

Tom arched a brow at those words as his mind worked before his mouth did. "And what if you don't _keep_ your word?" He questioned, placing his pen down so he could listen.

 

"Classic stupid Tom." Tord chuckled as he shook his head. "I suppose you don't have to trust me. But I know you're a good shot. Just let me know when you're ready."

 

Tom glanced down at the paper below him as he nodded slowly. "Riiight." He mused, getting up from his seat and avoiding the other's eye contact. "Mind if I use the restroom?"

 

Tord gestured towards the door that was behind the Brit and lightly smiled. "The door is right there, you don't have to ask." He commented. Tom just grumbled and made for the door, clicking it shut behind him. Once it was fully shut, Tord let the pen drop out of his grip as he chuckled.

 

All was going according to plans.

* * *

Retreating to his quarters, Tom latched the door shut and slid against the metal framing, brushing a hand through his hair as he attempted to make sense of what the fuck had just happened.

First of all, Tord had spoken to him. He actually seemed to be enjoying to have a conversation with a Brit, which confused Tom so. Usually Tord couldn't stand a single minute alone with him before going at his throat. Second, he actually offered him a place in his troops. Who the heck would let their frenemy in such a place?

 

Tom must have spent a good half an hour over thinking the whole situation, because when he returns to Tord's office, the man was nowhere to be seen and all of the paperwork had been signed. His empty eyes gazed across the cozy office room before he grabbed the stack of papers and headed off to file them.

He met Paul on the way, who was on a walk to grab some more cigarettes. Tom had learnt that Tord and his two loyal soldiers were more smokers than drinkers. Of course, they would have the occasional drink now and then, but Red Leader would never get too drunk. He had an army to lead; obviously he wouldn't be a babbling adult.

 

"Hey." Paul greeted the man, not bothering to offer to carry half of them. Tom huffed as he hauled the papers out of his vision to gaze at the man. Raising an eyebrow at the Norwegian, the 25 year old avoided addressing the fact that the brunet was now chewing on the cigarette stick.

 

"Going to get more cigarettes, I presume?" Tom hummed, fixing his posture so the stack wouldn't hurt his back. Paul took a moment to glance at him before returning to his chewing, shrugging subtly. "You know you're damaging your lungs."

 

The 32 year old just shrugged in response before finally tossing the cigarette away once it had lost it's taste. "Better than being shot in the chest." He said, gazing down at the papers. "Those the papers for the government?"

 

Tom grunted in reply as he felt the bottom stack begin to slip out of his arms. "Commie insisted I signed these. Honestly, he's so fucking lazy..." He mumbled, stumbling in his steps as he fumbled to catch the papers before they fell. Paul arched his famously bushy brows and took a stack out of his arms to relieve some of the balance. _Finally!_

 

"He _is_ the leader, so he's busy with other objectives." Paul answered, rearranging the papers. "You need to straighten your posture. Keep walking like that and you'll end up walking into a wall."

 

"I don't need to be told what to do." Tom sneered, but he followed the other's advice nonetheless. The two got into the disposal room and the Brit heaved the stack onto the desk and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. His empty eyes followed the Norwegian as Paul placed the papers down and crouched to reach for his secret stash of cigarettes under the desk. Not so secret if you get it out of there with everyone watching.

 

Once Paul retrieved his desired objects, his brown eyes scanned Tom's figure before making it towards the door. "You really need to work out. Those noodle arms ain't gonna do shit around here." He commented with a smirk before he disappeared down the hall. Tom's eye twitched with annoyance as he hauled the sheets into the bins, ready to be delivered to the government in a few days.

 

Gazing down at his arms, Tom repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands. Ha, noodle arms. What does he think he's saying? I struck down his leader while I was bleeding out.

 

The Brit clicked the lights off when he was done, yawning as he made for his quarters to prepare for lights out. Also to read that book he retrieved in the library; it was getting pretty interesting. Finding out some dirt on Tord was definitely satisfying Tom's needs, and if he had to endure some torture to get to read some more, so be it.

* * *

Tom had been reciting the usual routine, kick off his uniform and get into his pajamas, and then proceed to read until it was getting late. He was currently on the last step as he sat in bed in silence, his eyes scanning the page as the constant ticking of the clock echoed through the quiet room.

 

_The Red Army was founded in 1947, with Sir Mathéo Oskar as the leader. The army continued with their attacks before going under the ground in 1985. No more news had been seen about the Red Army, before they resurfaced in 2017 with Tord Aksel as the leader for this reign._

 

Tom hummed as he flipped the page, already having an understanding of what happened next. He needed to find out about Tord, but there was nothing in this book that lead to clues about his birthplace, where he grew up, his behaviour through life, _nothing_. It was as if someone had excluded that information to ensure no one knew anything about him. Someone like-

 

"Reading?"

 

Tom practically yelped at the sudden voice at his side, falling out of his bed in the process as the book slipped out of his hands. Groaning as his head hit the floor, the eyeless man sat up and rubbed his head to look at the Norwegian perched at his bedside table with a Cheshire cat smile going from ear to ear.

 

"Fuck...when did you get in here?" Tom hissed, quickly snatching up the book and tossing it into his drawers. He watched Tord with a close eye as the other simply laughed in response.

 

"Do you really think I wouldn't want to visit my favorite friend?" Tord teased, getting up from the table and instead residing onto Tom's bed.

 

The Brit growled at the sheer mention of the word and stood up, poking the other with a crowbar. "Get off my damn bed." He demanded. "And answer my question, commie."

 

Tord feigned shock as he placed a hand to his chest and mock frowned. "You don't want to share the bed?" He asked, chuckling in satisfaction when Tom's expression turned to that of disgust. "As for my answer, I have tunnel systems that connect my quarter to yours. So I may enter your room whenever I desire."

 

Tom stared at the man in front of him dumbfounded before letting out a groan. "Fuck off, you're such a creep." He complained, beginning to shove Tord off the bed. "Leave, I wanna sleep."

 

"You really think I came here without a reason, Thomas? Oh, you really are dense!" Tord exclaimed, watching as the other gazed up at him. "I simply came to tell you that I'll be leaving to Norway in the morning for some business."

 

Tom snorted as he successfully shoved Tord off his bed and rubbed his exhausted eyes. "So? What does that have to do with me?" He shrugged, taking the glass of water off his table to take a sip from it.

 

Tord felt something bubble in his throat at the sight of an absolutely naive Brit and smirked. "Because you will be leading until I return." It was amusing how Tom practically choked on his drink as it spilt over his shirt, and Tord barely realised he was even laughing at the event.

 

"Are you fucking insane? Me, leading an army? You really have lost your marbles." Tom exclaimed. "How do you even trust me with this?"

 

The man standing at the foot of his bed simply rolled his operative eye and folded his organic arm over his prosthetic one. "You won't be leading it as a leader, Tom. Sort of like a co-leader. You'll be simply responsible for checking in to see if the soldiers are doing their jobs properly."

 

"And how do you even know if I'll go along with this? For all you know, I could turn on you as soon as you leave." Tom snarled, hinting a little at the other's betrayal. Of course, since he was always self absorbed, Tord didn't notice.

 

"Paul and Patryk will be keeping you in check, and I gave them permission to punish you if you don't behave." Tord added, to which Tom grumbled and flipped the man off.

 

"Okay, fine. Now fuck off, I wanna sleep." He mumbled under his blankets, his tired eyes following the Norwegian as he left the room.

 

"Alright Thomas. Good luck~" Tord called with a chuckle before closing the door behind him. Tom just dug his face under the covers as he incohesively swore at the other under his breath. Him? As a co-leader? For the Red Army? Yeah right, Tord could fuck off for all he cared.

 

It took a while, but soon Tom had succumbed to slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I am trying out some new things for this story. For one, _typing this while sleep deprived is e x h a u s t i n g-_
> 
> I'm going to add some depth to Tom's relationship with Paul and Patryk next chapter since I feel like he'd be more compatible with those two than Tord. Idk, like I said I'm trying new things.


	4. For If You Must Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yawning slightly as he pulled the tarnished black overcoat onto his shoulders, Tom gazed at his drawers with a neutral expression. The soft rays of sunlight peeking in through the cracks in the walls shone over the bedside table, illuminating it's woodwork features. The man's empty eyes looked up towards the door when a small knock was placed onto the metal. Patryk called him to leave the room as Tom placed a hand on the doorknob, brushing the other through his light brown hair.
> 
>  
> 
> Last night certainly was...interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've just been having episode of writer's block. Here's a new chapter for you written out of pure boredom.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, I made a decision to only alternate to Edd and Matt when it is absolutely necessary and/or when something interesting to the story is happening. With that being said, enjoy the chapter.

Yawning slightly as he pulled the tarnished black overcoat onto his shoulders, Tom gazed at his drawers with a neutral expression. The soft rays of sunlight peeking in through the cracks in the walls shone over the bedside table, illuminating it's woodwork features. The man's empty eyes looked up towards the door when a small knock was placed onto the metal. Patryk called him to leave the room as Tom placed a hand on the doorknob, brushing the other through his light brown hair.

 

Last night certainly was...interesting.

Lifting his head at the sight of the taller Polish man, Tom let out a sigh as he shut his door, rubbing his 'eyes'. "Couldn't this have waited until later?" He grumbled tiredly. Tord had made an announcement precisely twenty minutes ago for all soldiers to be up and stationed at the carrier. The time was 5 in the morning, and Tom would have given it all to stay in bed.

 

Patryk simply chuckled at his question, beginning to escort the Brit to where everyone else was waiting. "Red Leader prefers events to be earlier than usual." He answered, placing a hand behind his back as the two turned a corner. "I'd expect you know that by now."

 

Suppressing a growl at that comment, Tom attempted to catch up with the other, having to jog due to his extra metre in height. It was quite embarrassing really; to have Patryk walking with long strides and professional steps and Tom practically jogging at his side, messing up the rhythm in the tapping of shoes against marble floors. "Why do you even call him Red Leader anyway?" The man queried, facing up towards the other. Patryk had his back turned to Tom as they walked, only giving a him in response as if to say _'elaborate'_. "I mean, aren't you two his right hand men? I thought people of that title get to call their leaders by their first name."

 

_That dumb book finally had some use after all._

 

Patryk raised an eyebrow at Tom's sudden knowledge of how leaders and right hand men worked, but brushed it aside and gave an answer. "While that is true, Paul and I prefer to call him by his title. It seems too rude of us to address him with his name." Tom nodded at that and skidded a little when the taller turned a hard corner; he had piqued his interest.

 

"Okaaay, but wouldn't you feel more comfortable calling him Tord?" Tom asked, letting his curiosity get the better of him.

 

Patryk simply placed a finger to his lips in response as they finally reached the carrier. He let out a sigh of relief once he noticed Tom had shifted his attention on the many private planes and helicopters on the area. "Holy pogo stick on a child's ditch, how the hell do you guys have this much shit?" The eyeless man breathed out, rushing forward to brush a hand over the paint job of a jet. The Polish man smirked at the other's sudden interest in their vehicles, and grabbed Tom by his wrist to drag him away from the expensive jet.

 

"Lots of funds." The darker haired male replied, chuckling slightly at how dejected he looked. Turning on his heels, Patryk began to continue down the carrier, waving off several soldier's salutes. "Come on, you have a specific station Red Leader required you to be at."

Tom took a moment to briefly gaze at the jet and at the paint job before turning to follow Patryk to his supposed 'station'. Jogging to catch up with the other, Tom glanced up at his slightly long hair, snickering at a nickname he had overheard Paul say. "What's so funny?" Patryk called over his shoulder.

 

Regaining his composure, Tom coughed awkwardly and turned away from the Polish man. "Nothing nothing." He answered. The brown haired man perked up when he saw a crate of a particular drink and practically raced towards it, ignoring Paul's confused stares. "You guys brought Smirnoff!?"

 

Paul chuckled at the other, briefly taking the cigarette out of his mouth to properly speak. "Red Leader said you liked this drink. I can see why now." He spoke with a smirk. Lifting his head at the sound of a horn blaring, he took one last drag from the cigarette before tossing it over the side and off into the sea.

 

Confused by the random action, Tom's eyes gazed up to meet with Paul's brown ones. "The hell did you throw it out for? That was a good smoke!" He argued, ignoring how Paul raised one of his bushy eyebrows.

 

"Red Leader doesn't like it when I smoke at his departures. Says it clogs up the engines or some shit." Paul mumbled in response, letting his hand slip out of his pocket at the sight of the mentioned leader. "Straighten your posture."

 

Grumbling in response at the command, Tom did as he was told and looked up. Tord was making his way down the line of vehicles, waving off each soldier's salute as he walked by. It disgusted the Brit how they began their salute even before he approached them, meaning he was obviously of some high title. Rolling his eyes when Tord lifted a briefcase, Tom averted his sight from the man, immediately wishing he were back home with Edd and Matt. He was sure they wouldn't like this sort of treatment, Edd especially. Tom almost let a chuckle slip out of his mouth at the thought of Edd acting all high and mighty and instead secretly flipped the Norwegian off when he made his way towards the three of them.

Tord let his organic eye scan the man's figure up and down before he gave off a teasing smirk as he handed his briefcase to Paul. "Nice to see you're up and awake, Thomas." He announced. "I thought you'd be out by now."

 

"Fuck off, Tord." The Brit simply groaned, shuffling away from the other's slightly taller frame. "I would be asleep if it wasn't for your shitty lackeys." He noticed how Tord's eyes glaced upwards to Patryk for a brief moment before it settled back onto him.

 

"I'll be gone for three weeks. I trust you not to burn my office down until then." Tord decided, beginning to board the jet while not taking his eyes off Tom. It was a bit disturbing, to say the least, how Tord was almost always focused on him.

 

The brunet let out a silent but bitter laugh as he crossed his arms, staring at Tord with such anger in his eyes. " _You_ trust _me_? Now that's certainly a new joke, may I ask where you heard it?"

 

His frown deepened when he heard Tord laughing back at him, bowing his head as he did; of course he found this funny. "Oh, classic stupid Tom! You always know how to make me laugh." He breathed, wiping off some fake tears. "Paul, Patryk, make sure to evaluate his... _conditions_ while I'm away."

 

"Yes, sir." Both men chorused at the order, watching as their leader entered the jet. Tom just grumbled under his breath as he shuffled his feet across the floor. He hated Tord with every atom of his being. Yet Tord didn't give a shit, now did he? The man's attention drifted off into space as he blatantly ignored Tord's take off, instead thinking about the one thing he longed for; home.

_Edd gazed up from the box that he was digging through, a wide grin on his face as he held the gift behind his back and made his way into the living room. His two best friends, Tom and Matt were laying on the sofa, probably bored out of their minds. Haha, how they were gonna love these presents. "Guess what I got for you, Matt!" He sing songed, rocking from side to side as he watched his friends turn their attention towards him._

 

_"Hmmm....is it a new beauty kit?" Matt questioned, practically leaping off the sofa to ask his next question. "Or is it s new toy for my novelty toy collection!? Oooh, please say it is!"_

 

_A chuckle beside him made the strawberry blind turn his head to face Tom, as the other took a sip from that godforsaken flask of his. "Matt, you have way too many toys. Why don't you give them to charity?" Tom asked, grinning when Matt pushed him away, an embarrassed blush on his face. "Nooo, I need to become a collector!" He whined, fighting back as Tom began to tickle him._

 

_Edd watched the two with a smile and made his way over to the sofa, forcing himself in between them and placing the present into Matt's lap. "Here, I don't know if you'll like it, but at least it's the thought that counts." He said, stifling a laugh when the other almost immediately began to dig through the wrapping._

 

_Tom lifted his gaze from the flask that he was drinking from when he heard an enunciated gasp escape from the taller of the three and turned his head. Matt was grasping a cymbal playing monkey, similar to the one they had gotten in ASDFLand, while Edd was rubbing the back of his head. "Oh my god, it's Little Tom!" The strawberry blond practically squealed, pulling Edd in for a hug. "Oh, thank youthankyouthankyou!"_

 

_Giving a small smile at the exchange, Tom stood up to head off to bed, feeling he should leave the two alone. He hesitated however when he heard Edd calling for him, and leaned over the banisters to gaze down at him. "Sup?" He asked._

 

_Edd simply gave him a smile in response, gently puling away from Matt's bear hug. "Happy birthday, Tom." He called, giggling when the lighter haired male raised an eyebrow. Matt poked his head from under a cushion and returned a grin at his friend. "Yeah, happy birthday Tom!"_

 

_Tom was a little surprised by the sudden gesture, they really had remembered. "Uh, thanks...?" He awkwardly said, continuing up his way to his room. The second he opened his door, he was hit with the fragrance of fresh cinnamon, to which he only admitted he liked to his close friends. His hand felt around in the dark for the light switch, and when he clicked it on, he couldn't stop the ever growing smile on his face. Leaning against his bed, fixed and looking perfectly brand new was his favourite bass, Susan. Fuck, he didn't deserve this. Making his way over to the bed, Tom gently lifted the note that was attached to the neck of the bass to read it. It said;_

 

_"Hey Tom. Happy birthday. Enjoy your newly fixed and painted bass, we know how much you love her. — Edd & Matt. PS. We will let you have Smirnoff only because it's your birthday. But you're continuing the ban tomorrow."_

 

_Tom chuckled at the little note, lifting his bass into his lap and gently strumming at the strings; how he missed this feeling. So that's what Matt was hiding the other week when he was leaving to the store. Tom thought it looked suspicious. He let out another chuckle as he hugged the bass to his chest; he had the bestest friends ever._

 

"....om?"

 

Blinking at what sounded to be his name, Tom lifted his eyes to look at Paul, who had his hands in his shoulders. Oh yeah, that's right. He no longer had Edd and Matt by his side; _shame_. "What?" He coldly replied, shaking the other off of him and strolling off. He could hear the quiet taps of the other's shoes as he followed him. Tom wanted nothing but to be alone right now. "Would you quit following me and leave me be?!" Tom snarled, pushing the double doors open and entering the base.

Paul perked up when Tom spoke in such an angered tone, it almost reminded him of when Tord had gotten so angry he shot three soldiers for not undergoing proper procedures. "I just wanted to tell you there's some paperwork waiting for you on your desk." The brunet called after him, making sure to keep a slight distance. Tord had informed both him and Patryk of the man's more... _dominant_ side, which had subsequently worried both right hand men. Their leader had also mentioned that it was not a matter of if, but a matter of when Tom would burst. Hopefully it wouldn't be while Tord was away, otherwise they might end up with a half destroyed base.

 

Lifting a brow in confusion at the choice of words, Tom raised his head to dodge rushing soldiers and began to make his way towards his quarters. "I...don't have a desk?" He announced aloud, confused at why Paul would even mention Tom having a desk. The Brit worked in his quarters, mainly on his bed with a cup of coffee or something to keep him away. Like the bastard he was, Tord didn't allow him to drink Smirnoff for the first month after his recover which infuriated him at first. Soon, Tom grew used to the routine of not having the bubbly alcohol in his mouth, but after seeing that crate on the carrier, he just couldn't contain himself.

 

"Yes, well since Red Leader has left, he specifically said that you must work in his office until he returns." Paul answered, halting in his steps when Tom skidded to a stop. Obviously, he was surprised by the information, Tom never dreamed of the day that Tord would actually let him even touch the damned velvet seat. "Lunch will be brought to you by one of our cooks at noon, as well as dinner. You may request for private meals in between until 9pm, where your shift ends."

 

Now that was a surprise. Tord had gone all the way to allowing Tom to have extra meals as well as two hours off of work!? This was almost a dream come true! "Uh...thanks for informing me." He turned on his heels to face Paul, just as the other was grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets; of course. The man just shrugged in response before taking a moment to light the cigarette, taking a long drag before lifting his gaze to face Tom.

 

"You also have physical and mental exams at 11am and 4pm." Paul added. He almost let a chuckle escape at Tom's utter look of bewilderment, Tord was right; the other was hilarious when he was left in the dark.

 

"What!? The hell you mean exams?" Tom spat, feeling his heart pump rapidly against his own chest. Had Tord known this entire time? "I don't need any checkups, I'm fine on my own." He snorted, turning and making his way down the hall.

 

Wrapping two fingers around the small cigarette, the Norwegian man lifted it out of his mouth to call for the other. "I suppose you'd want to cover up your markings, then." He called, watching as again, Tom froze. So they _had_ known about it. Ugh, Tom was royally fucked. "Who's taking my exams?" The Brit let a sigh escape him as he rubbed a palm over his face; he couldn't believe he was committing to any of this.

 

"Your physical is at 11 with me and mental is at 4 with Patryk." Paul answered, popping the cigarette back into his mouth and watching as Tom's shoulders shook; he was anxious. Paul supposed he should tell his colleague about that. Tom had relaxed slightly, knowing it wasn't a random soldier checking on him, and actually felt calm knowing it would be Paul and Patryk. Now Tom didn't know the two personally, but he knew that they were always together and possibly were the kindest people he had seen after his capture.

 

He guessed he would have to get used to the new routine then. "Alright, I get it. Let me have breakfast." Tom mumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and continuing down the hallway. Thankfully, Paul didn't speak up again, so Tom was clouded with his thoughts as he made his way to the cafeteria. As he pushed open the doors and shuffled over to grab a tray, his heart felt heavy as he remembered one thing.

 

_He missed his friends..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...I need a way to incorporate Eduardo onto Edd's side. What to do? Next chapter will just be Tom building his trust with Paul and Patryk, nothing special really.
> 
>  
> 
> Tell me how this is going so far, I'd really appreciate the thought. Comments are free, don't be shy to write what is good or bad about this fic.
> 
>  
> 
> Some news: I won't be updating for the next two weeks due to religious reasons, so I hope I made this chapter long enough for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for reading!


	5. You Must Have Composure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the cafeteria in a rushed dash, Tom dusted his waistcoat off as he made his way towards the office. Having breakfast after just being announced as the co-leader hadn't gone smoothly for him, as many of the soldiers had stared at him all the way through his meal. He didn't blame them; it's not everyday you see someone with voids for eyes and you are forced to work under them. But the longer Tom looked at them, the more he noticed just how scared they looked. The Brit couldn't help but feel something bubble in his chest when he stood up to take his leave and all the soldiers saluted him almost immediately.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _They had every right to be afraid of him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, finally back to finish this story. I'll admit, my week has been pretty wild with family flooding in and out the house. But, I'm glad everything has calmed down because it means I can continue work on this amazing piece. Thank you all so much for waiting patiently and enjoy!

After leaving the cafeteria in a rushed dash, Tom dusted his waistcoat off as he made his way towards the office. Having breakfast after just being announced as the co-leader hadn't gone smoothly for him, as many of the soldiers had stared at him all the way through his meal. He didn't blame them; it's not everyday you see someone with voids for eyes and you are forced to work under them. But the longer Tom looked at them, the more he noticed just how scared they looked. They must have heard the quarrel the two had in the hallway a couple weeks ago, and were wondering how Tord hadn't punished him. Surprisingly enough, the brunet had also wondered why Tord hadn't subjected him to some form of torture, until he noticed how the man practically thrived off of Tom's constant teasing and name calling. The Brit couldn't help but feel something bubble in his chest when he stood up to take his leave and all the soldiers saluted him almost immediately.

 

_They had every right to be afraid of him._

 

He let his feet wander around the hallways as he looked for the wide brass doors that announced Tord's office. A quick side glance at a clock told him that it was 7 in the morning, which meant he had three hours to do whatever paperwork was in that room before he had to skulk back into Paul's office for his 'checkup'.

 

He couldn't lie; he was a bit terrified when the man had made that remark about his markings. He remembered how fast he had pulled down his sleeves to hide the purple protruding onto his forearm in pure fear. So, Tord knew about his secret. That was....concerning, to say the least. Tom had no clue what the Norwegian had in store for him with that sort of information.

 

Letting out an exasperated sigh at the sight of the familiar door, Tom placed a hand on the doorknob and twisted it open, stepping in. The curtains were drawn, making the room look exceptionally dark. The brunet made a move to pull them aside before taking note of how many soldiers walk past the window; he couldn't afford letting his secret out to the rest of the damned army. Settling on keeping the curtains shut, Tom flicked the lights on, watching as they flickered to life before making his way over to the desk. His fingers briefly brushed across the piles and piles of paperwork before he let his eyes wander off to the side of the room.

 

_Tord's drawers._

 

He said that he would be gone for at least a month, right? This meant that Tom had a month to find any sort of belongings in those drawers and get some more dirt on the man. Cautiously walking over to the drawers, Tom let his fingers wrap around the handle as he took in a deep breath. This would be it. He would find Tord's true motives of setting up this entire army and barely doing anything. Tom could finally find out what the hell he was doing that random day before he tore their friendship apart. The brunet swallowed any sense of fear left in his body and pulled....

 

Locked.

 

Of course.

 

Tom gave a frustrated groan as he slumped over in the tall chair, not bothering to care about the velvet cushion he was laying on and instead dug his face deeper into the seat. How stupid was he to think that Tord would actually leave without locking his most important drawers? Honestly, he was such a fucking idiot. Pulling up the first stack of paperwork towards him, Tom got straight to work, not even checking the other drawers in the room. His eyes trailed over to look at the large clock that hung over the doorway; 7:23.

 

_Classic stupid Tom._

* * *

It had soon reached the quarter to eleven mark, and Tom was just about to fall asleep on the desk after signing hundreds of worthless papers, until he was awoken by a buzzing at his wrist. Jerking awake and gazing down at his arm, he frowned at the sight of a small wristwatch along with a reminder to visit Paul. As he rubbed his eyes and stood up, pushing aside the papers to carry later, Tom grumbled to himself. _When the fuck had Tord put that on him?_

Tom remembered to lock the door on his way out, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he skulked down to Paul's office. According to the man, he was going to be taking part in a physical exam, and if Tom remembered correctly from his experience in high school, this physical exam would be exhausting. He was sure he would knock out on his bed as soon as Paul announced him free for the day.

 

The brunet rolled his empty eyes when a few soldiers rushed past him, quickly saluting him and muttering a "Sir!" before rushing off to do whatever it is they were doing. He swore he hadn't agreed to any of this, and just missed home even more; he missed waking up to Matt tugging at Edd's cheeks and begging him to give him some extra bacon...

 

Pausing at the door, Tom let out a deep sigh as he raised his hand to knock. Well, at least he wouldn't have to see that commie's stupid face for another month. He gave a few gentle knocks to the oak wood door, hearing the small voice calling him to enter and pushed the door open.

 

Paul had been seated at his desk, smoking away as the fumes headed out the window, the Brit scrunching his nose up in disgust; at least now he knew how Edd felt when smokers would pass by. The Norwegian soon put out his cigarette at the sight of him, though, and gave a frustrated inhale. "Oh right, physical exam, I forgot." He mumbled, heaving himself off the seat and making his way over to the other.

 

Tom could feel every fibre in his body tense and lock up when he saw Paul moving to grab a measuring tape off the desk, but had to keep a calm expression when the brunet made his way towards him. "What are you doing?" The Brit cautiously asked, taking a step back from the other. Paul seemed to catch sight of his anxious frame and hesitated in his steps, looking Tom over with half lidded eyes.

"Calm down, I'm just checking your height." Paul answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the man; jeez, he was just as tense as when Tord was struck with that robot. Paul had to physically strap the ginger down in order to check his wounds, and let me just tell you, it was hard to concentrate while you're being cursed at by a 25 year old.

 

Tom gazed down at the tape in his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists to relieve some stress. "Really? You're not going to gas me or anything like that?" He jeered, looking the other deep into the eyes. He knew that Paul and Patryk were more restrained than the commie, but Tom knew better than to trust them straight away.

 

Paul let out a breathless laugh as he shook his head, his brown locks falling over his eyes as he did so. "If I was going to gas you, I would have done so the second you walked in." He joked, missing how the man tensed up. "Now, take off your shoes so I can check your height."

 

Hesitating slightly as his eyes glared at the other, Tom slipped both of his black leather shoes, leaving him in his checkered socks and crossed his arms angrily. "Make a remark about my height and I'll hurt you." He snarled, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment when Paul chuckled and pat his tuft of hair.

"Don't worry, my job is to check you, not insult you." The Norwegian said, measuring Tom's height and slapping his arms to tell him to put them down. The Brit silently obeyed and waited for the results to come in, feeling his eye twitch when Paul hummed as he read the measurements. "You're 5'3." He replied, snapping the tape back into it's container. "An average height, but shorter than most males."

 

The brunet growled at the slight insult and took another step back. "The hell did I just say about insulting me?" He grumbled. He wanted so hard to knock this man out with all the strength in his body, but he knew that if he dared lay a finger on one of Tord's right hand men, he would receive a punishment worse than ever before. "What now?"

 

Paul lifted his gaze from the desk and nodded his head in the direction to a weight beside his seat. "Now, we check your weight." He replied simply, watching as Tom cautiously stepped onto the device; he was self-conscious of his weight. Either the man was insecure about his weight, or he was aware of how much his.... _other side_ added onto his original weight. Paul let his chocolate brown eyes fall onto the digital numbers flashing on the screen, before scribbling it down in his notebook.

 

"There, I did what you asked. Now stop being such a fucking creep and let me have my lunch." Tom mumbled, taking a step off the machine and slipping back into his shoes. He knew he should have turned on his heel and left, but that glare in Paul's eye just... _hurt_.

 

The way he was scrutinizing him and pinning all of his attention onto him was making Tom feel like a mouse trapped in a cat's paws. And he _hated_ how it reminded him of Tord. Those glowing brown eyes whenever the man would get his hands on a weapon and the sheer skills he had using said weapon. That fucking grin on his face as he stood high and mighty in his robot, aiming his missile at the house and at _him-_

 

Inhaling sharply and masking it with a small cough, Tom averted his gaze from the other as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. Why the hell was he scared? He shouldn't be scared, Tord was human like him. But the fact that the Norski had threatened to kill his friends unless he joined had torn the Brit so much, he _knew_ Tord wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. _That's_ why he was scared.

 

The Norwegian lifted his head to look at the other, raising one of his famously bushy eyebrows at him when he noticed Tom's arms were wrapped around his waist; scared. Paul recognised this sort of body language, since his leader had portrayed the same action when he thought about the incident. "Oi." Paul lazily called, watching as Tom's head practically snapped to face him, observing how his legs trembled though he stood still. "Drop and give me 30."

 

Tom opened his mouth to speak, swiftly cutting off his gasp. "The _fuck_!?" He snarled. No way was he doing pushups in this damn office! He watched as Paul placed the notebook onto his desk, clicking the pen off and leaning against the table.

 

"You heard me. You're not leaving till you do so." Paul said with a shrug. "Refuse and you won't gain access to lunch." He could almost let out a laugh at how many times Tom's mouth opened and closed like a goddamn fish.

 

Tom snapped out of his daze and growled, jabbing a finger onto the other's chest. "Okay, who the fuck let you be the boss of me?" He asked out of pure spite. It sickened him how Paul just gave him a smirk and tilted his head to the side; was he seriously playing games with him!?

 

"If you must know, Red Leader has given both me and Patryk control over you. That means stripping you of your meals and free time whenever you do not cooperate." Paul answered with a confident grin. "Now, it's not a suggestion, it's a command. Drop and give me 30, Tom." He watched in satisfaction as the brunet complied with a small grumble, dropping to the floor and beginning the pushups.

 

As he pushed himself up and down, Tom couldn't help but feel embarrassed; he hadn't had to do this in front of someone since his college days. Yes, he had eventually dropped out, but the fear of someone watching him as he was incapable of completing a simple task still haunted him to this day. The Brit only managed to get 27 done before he collapsed onto the floor in a heap of sweat and raggedy breathing.

It annoyed him how Paul tutted over his collapsed form, scribbling yet another damned report on that clipboard of his. "You were almost there. Why'd you stop?" He questioned, raising his head to look at the man on his floor. Tom was muttering several curses under his breath and wincing in pain as each sharp breath he took caused stitches in his abdomen. "That's it for today. Make sure you eat enough vegetables at lunch and keep practicing; I'll evaluate you again tomorrow."

 

Tom panted and heaved as he lifted his head up to face the Norwegian with angrily slanted eyes, briefly flipping him off. "Go...to hell.." He growled, cursing himself for portraying himself as such a weak individual. The brunet was slightly angered when Paul simply crouched beside him and held out a hand for him to take, but joined hands with the man and dusted his waistcoat off again.

 

Paul gave the other a small pat on his shoulder before moving away from him to return to his seat on the desk, pulling open his drawer and taking a pack of cigarettes out. "We'll be building up on your stamina soon. If you don't want to pass out during one of our examinations, I suggest you stock up on the carbs, starting today." He called, lighting a cigarette and lifting it up to his lips. "You can't keep this up, Tom. Whatever it is that's going on with you, you know that you can't stay like this. If you just listen to my advice, you might be able to restrain yourself when you...well, you know."

 

Fiddling with his sleeves uncomfortably, Tom's eyes fell to the floor as he listened to the lecture. He knew Paul was right; Tom had done some self-control over the past few years because he didn't want to come to terms with the fact that he may as well hurt his friends whenever his other side took control. If he was going to escape this place one day, he should at least take the man's advice and start training. "Don't overwork yourself. I've seen what it can do to a man, and it's not exactly peachy." Paul added, watching as Tom's head lifted to face him, the small brown locks of hair bobbing up in turn with him.

 

"Uh...thanks for the advice, I guess?" Tom awkwardly answered. He wasn't so used to the brunet being so polite around him. "I'll be taking my leave now." He announced, turning on his heel and placing a hand on the doorknob. Just as he was about to swing open the door, Paul called from behind his desk. "Hey."

 

Turning his head to face the older adult, Tom cocked an eyebrow in intrigue. Paul took a moment to take a drag from the cigar, before popping it out his mouth and glaring softly into the other's eyes. "Seriously, don't beat yourself over things." The man advised. Tom simply nodded at his words and turned the knob, opening the doors and facing the hallways once more.

 

Once he had clicked the door shut behind him, Tom let out an exasperated sigh as he brushed a hand through his hair, sticking the other into the pockets of his jeans. Whatever it was that Paul had done to make him feel this way, Tom had to admit the man was damn good at his job. Lifting his head and beginning to head towards the office, Tom's eyes glanced down at the wristwatch; 11:46. Okay, that was one exam done. Now, there was just the mental exam with Patryk. Ugh, Tom was not ready for the nosy questions the Polish man would prod at him.

 

_Paul was actually a pretty okay guy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually enjoying writing this for you guys, I'm having so much fun!
> 
>  
> 
> Coming up next is Edd and Matt's encounter with Eduardo, ooh boy. Be prepared for lots of swearing and violence!


	6. Reconnecting With Old...Buddies?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frenetically tapping his pen against the table and muttering lowly under his breath, the brunet's dull hazel eyes gazed over the piles and piles of paperwork on his desk. The new laws had just come in, and with Edd being the leader of the Rebellion, he took the liberty of signing it all off to send to the British government to decide on matters. He let a sigh escape his lips as he raised a hand upwards to brush through his tousled brown hair, frowning at the lines of pestiferous long words being used in each passage.
> 
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> 
> Matt had left on his mission about two hours ago, and not once had Edd gotten a call over the radio from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is I, yes, I'm back! This chapter was a bit hard to write because of a certain writer's block hitting me with a brick. Hope you enjoy!

Frenetically tapping his pen against the table and muttering lowly under his breath, the brunet's dull hazel eyes gazed over the piles and piles of paperwork on his desk. The new laws had just come in, and with Edd being the leader of the Rebellion, he took the liberty of signing it all off to send to the British government to decide on matters. He let a sigh escape his lips as he raised a hand upwards to brush through his tousled brown hair, frowning at the lines of pestiferous long words being used in each passage.

 

Matt had left on his mission about two hours ago, and not once had Edd gotten a call over the radio from him; therefore causing the other to panic. The adult never usually did this, he would be fine with his friend getting distracted on missions, but not once had he been this panicked about it. He spent most of the time locked away in his small office room, nervously biting on his nails while his eyes furiously scanned the words on paper in a desperate attempt to distract himself.

 

_He's going to die out there._

 

No, he wasn't. Matt was perfectly secure and if there was an ambush, he could handle himself. There was nothing Edd had to be worried about.

 

_What if he runs into Tord?_

 

Holding back a choked gasp, Edd pushed his seat back and stumbled for the drawers by the side of the room, his heart beating rapidly against his chest as his breathing shortened. No, not another one. He was doing such a good job, why now?

 

_Calm down. Remember the steps._

 

As he gave a small nod to those thoughts, Edd squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath in, feeling his fingers clasp around the edges of the drawers. He didn't need to worry.

 

Matt was fine.

 

Matt was _safe_.

 

Matt was going to come back.

 

It took him some time, but soon enough, the brunet was standing up on his two feet and breathing perfectly fine. The anxiety seemed to wash away with the breathing exercise he did, and the Brit was just about to return to the paperwork laying on his desk, when a knock placed on his door made him stumble in his steps and fall headfirst into the cabinet, smashing several mugs in there.

 

 _"Sir, are you okay in there?"_ A tentative voice called from outside; it was Gray, his secretary. Edd gave a small groan as he picked himself up from the crash, dusting some shards out of his hair and locking the cabinet, making a mental note to clean it out later.

 

"Yeah, I'm good. You just...startled me." The brunet called back, nervously rubbing his wrist as his mind raced with infinite possibilities.

 

_He's telling you Matt failed on his mission. That he got captured. Maybe even kil-_

 

A small nervous cough rang from outside the door, it was so out of place that Edd slowly made a move for the door, gently placing his body against it. Please, oh please let Matt be okay. "Is something wrong, Gray?" He shakily asked.

 

There was a slight shuffling sound, like the man opposite the door was rummaging through some papers before a small reply came through. _"We have a couple...visitors."_

 

Lifting a small brow in confusion, Edd let his fingers wrap around the doorknob, unlatching it and facing his secretary. It was clear that he hadn't been getting enough rest as his usually bright hazel eyes were now a dull color and bags were beginning to appear under his eyes. "Um...what-what sort of visitors?" Edd questioned nervously. Gray lifted his gaze from the binder he was holding in his hands and brushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Well, for one, they barged in without any sort of authority guiding them or identifications on them. We had to confine them in the interrogation rooms due to the amount of trouble they were causing." Gray explained, taking note of how dishevelled his leader look. Good grief, this man needed some sleep and bad.

 

The brunet gave a small hum at the information and nodded his head just slightly. "Are they...you know, Red soldiers?" He questioned, letting his shoulders relax when Gray shook his head.

 

"No sir, they seem to be regular civilians rebelling, just like us." Gray noted, before clicking his pen and placing it into his shirt pocket. "Though one of them was specifically demanding to see you." The man was a bit confused by that, were there more civilians wishing to be in the rebellion, or were they there just to yell at him for not doing anything? He was already stressed with Tom's capture, and spending most days cooped up in his office wasn't helping.

 

Edd simply waved his hands gently at his secretary, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and leaning against the door. "I'll be down in a minute. Let me freshen up." He responded, to which Gray nodded and respectively left. The brunet let out a sigh as he shut his door, grabbing some deodorants and spraying some on himself. He glanced at himself in the broken mirror laying on the floor and winced at the reflection. Geez, he was a mess!

 

Shaking his head dismissively, Edd made his way out of his office and down the hall into the interrogation rooms, meeting up with Gray on the way. "We had to separate them because they would not stop yelling at each other. You'll have to interrogate them separately." He said, unlocking the first door for Edd to step in. The leader brushed up his waistcoat and took a few deep breaths in, flinching when Gray placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sir. Please don't work yourself up again. Okay?"

 

The only thing he could do at the moment was give a weak nod in response before heading into the room, hearing the door latch shut behind him. It was such a loud noise in a quiet place, sometimes it haunted him how it could just be the end of them if the Red Army heard it. Edd had finally gotten himself mentally prepared for the complaints the civilian was about to give him, even preparing a few lousy excuses for their behaviour, but everything died in his throat the second his eyes glanced over at the figure sitting in the chair.

 

It all happened so fast; one minute everything was calm and the next, Edd was being held in a chokehold, gasping for oxygen and struggling in the arms of his captor. "You know it's fucking hilarious how _you're_ the leader of this shithole." The voice hissed into his ears, and the panic began to settle back into the Brit's mind. "You're the one that started this entire mess! You hear me, asshole!?"

 

"Edu-Eduardo....a-a...ai- _air!!_ " Edd gasped, coughing and hacking when the man finally released him and then pinned him onto the floor, allowing him to get a good look at his former neighbour.

 

His entire appearance had changed over the span of six years; for one his hair had grown out and was tied into a rather messy manbun, a light blue rag tied across his forehead. He was still wearing his regular clothes like back in the old days, with the exception of a torn blue jacket with spots of red dancing across it. It finally clicked in Edd's mind; that was Jon's jacket. And those red spots weren't the pattern; that was his blood from _that day_. Eduardo was still wearing his roommate's jacket since the day of his death. The sound of clinking metal led Edd's eyes down towards the man's shins, frowning when he caught sight of shackles that were restricting him to the table. He would have had to be extra violent for his soldiers to do something like that.

 

Edd's gaze had just about caught a glimpse of the amount of bags underneath the other's eyes, before he was vigorously shook. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you!" Eduardo yelled at him, pure rage in his eyes. The brunet let a whimper escape his lips when the man's hands reached for his neck once more, his lungs refusing to cooperate, and for a second Edd thought he was dying. "This is all your fault! It's your fault we're stuck like this, scavenging for food, clothes, a shelter! It's your fault Jon died!! It's your fault we're all going to die next!!"

 

Edd barely comprehended what he had even done, but he had managed to toss Eduardo off of him, getting some of his breath back and holding the other's arms behind his back, just the right angle to break it if the man decided not to cooperate. The brunet had to cover up his heavy breathing from the event and frowned at the man. "Are you done yelling at me? Are we going to have a nice, civil chat over matters?" He snarled, successfully covering up the fact that he was terrified of what had just happened to him.

 

Eduardo grumbled underneath his weight, something along the lines of "Why the fuck should I listen to you?". The 24 year old had to restrain himself from lashing out on him, but managed to keep a straight face as he responded.

 

"Because if you _don't_ , we won't help you get revenge." Edd replied, not liking the sound of how those words had come out of his mouth, but wincing when he realised it was the cold, hard truth. He felt Eduardo shuffle under him before the other let out an exasperated sigh.

 

Eduardo's heart had grown heavy when his former neighbour had mentioned getting revenge for Jon; he knew that's what he wanted all along, but he wasn't sure what to do. Should he follow along with Edd's lead, or should he create his own rebellion? Eduardo knew the latter wouldn't work out; everyone was practically in Edd's rebellion, so it would take years to build up a proper and strong army to fight against that damned Norwegian. He sighed when he came to face the truth and slowly nodded at the other's words. "Fine. We'll join you." He grumbled; he never thought of the day where he would ever come to Edd, of all people, for help.

 

Edd gave a soft nod, reassured that Eduardo had agreed and wasn't going to freak out on him again... _yet_. "You said 'we'. I'm guessing Mark is with you?" The brunet questioned, slowly releasing him when he nodded. He watched as Eduardo hissed and rubbed his wrist, a small red bruise embedded into his skin, and winced. "Sorry about that, you _were_ getting hostile on me."

 

The American simply snorted and lifted his dark brown eyes to look over at Edd. "It's chill. I'm actually surprised at how this all changed you." He remarked.

 

Arching an eyebrow in confusion, Edd gave a shrug at the words. "Depression?" He suggested in a joking manner. Eduardo shook his head and gave his arm a light punch, not enough to hurt, but it was sort of like a friendly punch.

 

"Nah, man. You're fucking ripped as all hell." Eduardo commented with a small whistle. "Damn, I didn't know a wimp like you would turn out to be this fit."

 

Edd gave a small, yet nervous, laugh and gently pushed away the man's hand. "I'd advise against cursing. We have kids in this establishment, you know." He said, moving his head to the side to hide his slowly growing blush. It was strange how Eduardo had come into his base, choked him, and now they were acting like they were old friends or something. Edd shuddered at the familiar words and stood up, dusting off his waistcoat and looking back up at Eduardo. It was so...weird seeing the bully from all those years ago, smiling so genuinely at him. "Well, I'm going to go check up on Mark. Hopefully he doesn't choke me on sight." Edd sarcastically shot, feeling his heart warm when the other simply chuckled at the comment.

 

"Don't worry, that guy won't attack anyone unless they're part of the Red army." Eduardo reassured him, and coughed awkwardly, covering up his smirk with a grimace.

 

The brunet gave a soft chuckle at his action, placing his hand onto the touchpad and listening as the doors rattled open. "By the way, smiles look good on you." He commented, leaving the room. He could just imagine how startled Eduardo would be and shut the door behind him, jumping when Gray and several other operatives rushed towards him, each asking questions.

 

"Are you okay, sir?"

"Do you have any injuries?"  
"Should we call a doctor?"  
"Do we undergo the procedure?"

 

Edd gently brushed away each question and began to move to the second door to the right, placing his hand on the touchpad again, not facing the others when he spoke. "Don't worry, they're not here to hurt us. Just recruitments. Also, could you take the shackles off of Eduardo? He's hostile, but he won't pounce on sight." Edd called, sliding the door open once it was unlocked.

 

"But sir, he had you in a chokehold!" Gray whined with a frown, his fingers digging into his arms in frustration. How careless did his leader have to be to let someone who choked him off the hook so quickly? He tensed when the brunet turned to him, expecting the man to yell at him for accusing such things, but instead, Edd's face was curved up into a smile.

 

"Don't worry, he was just...a companion from the past. That's his way of greeting people; he's pretty tough, so he'll make a strong recruitment." Edd replied, taking one step inside. A smirk pulled at his face as he moved to shut the door, shutting those caramel eyes of his mischievously. "And please, don't push your faces so close to the glass. It won't help you hear our conversation."

 

Hearing the door shut behind him, he let his eyes flutter open and moved towards the figure in the chair, cocking an eye at the man. Everyone really had changed in six year's time; Mark had grown a lot fitter and was wearing baby blue wristbands (probably a memory of their friend, Edd supposed) on his wrists. The brunet could see some bruises on his knuckles, meaning they had gotten into a brawl before coming here, and the other's ocean eyes were faced downwards at the table. His blond hair was wild and unkempt, as if he hadn't found the time to brush it ever since the attacks.

 

Edd swallowed the large amount of sympathy raising in his throat and weakly smiled at the other, sliding into the seat opposite him and leaning against the table. "How are things going, Mark?" He questioned.

 

The man opposite him raised his head to look at him ever so slowly, and Edd's smile faltered for a second once he took notice of how _hurt_ he looked. The smirk he once wore was now wiped off, replaced with a frown, his now dull eyes carefully scanning his surroundings. "As good as anything can get nowadays..." He mumbled, fiddling with his fingers as he felt rather uncomfortable under Edd's gaze. "Was...was Eduardo trouble?"

 

The Brit had to stifle his laughter and gently brushed a hand through his brown hair. "He choked me on sight. Nice way of greeting people, you know?" He replied. The smile returned when he heard Mark snort under his breath and softened his position. "Though, what's up with that manbun of his? I thought he hated long hair."

 

Tensing ever so slightly, Mark barely lifted his head, but Edd could just about see the blue of his eyes peeking through a strand of his blond hair. "Jon preferred him to have long hair..." The man quietly muttered at the mention of his friend. "After he...passed, Eduardo promised to grow out his hair."

 

Straightening his back in the seat once the mood had dampened, Edd let out a small sigh of pity. He was grateful none of his friends had fallen victim to the explosion, and couldn't help but feel bad for the two; Jon was a good guy. Always so optimistic and usually calmed Eduardo down before he did something irrational. If he and Eduardo hadn't been rivals in the past, Edd might as well had added Jon into their friend group; he was a perfect fit. So sad how the innocents were taken so soon.

 

He decided to change the subject, as to not make Mark feel worse than he probably already did and tilted his head. "Do you and Eduardo want to applyfor our rebellion? I could bring you to our fronts, if that's what Eduardo wants." Edd offered, watching as the blond lifted his head to look at him.

 

"That...sounds nice." Mark replied. "I'd like to decline on my part, Eduardo can fight in the battles. If it's okay with you, I prefer to schedule and plan the attacks, so we have more chances of succeeding."

 

Edd gently blinked at the other in confusion, tilting his head more to the side. "I'm sorry? Succeed in what?" He questioned.

 

"Your friend was captured, am I correct?" Mark answered, nodding softly when he got a flinch from the other. "Eduardo heard. He wanted to help out, though he wouldn't admit it."

 

To say the least, Edd was baffled by the information; Eduardo actually _wanted_ to help Edd, despite everything that had happened the past years? The brunet was so confused, how could someone so mean be so kind as to rebel against an entire army to rescue someone that he didn't even know properly? It made his head hurt; what if this wasn't Eduardo? Edd felt his breathing hitch when he realised another thing; _what if this wasn't Mark?_. Tord was extremely educated in robotics and engineering, that producing life-like androids seemed possible for the Norwegian to do. What if he just sent out these robots to fool Edd and work out their plans, and get enough time to counterattack, forcing them to go into hiding and risking the chance of being found and killed-

 

"E-Edd?"

 

Blinking two- no, _three?_ -times, Edd's gaze snapped upwards to face Mark, watching as the other's expression turned from alarm to relief. He'd had another panic attack, hadn't he? _Fuck_ , he needed to get ahold of himself, he couldn't keep this up. Edd cleared his throat and stood up, pushing the chair into the table and making a move for the door. "I'll....think things over. You and Eduardo should be relocated to a more comfortable room, I advise you to stay in there until further notice." Edd called, letting his hand press against the touchpad, only then noticing how much he was shaking.

 

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but shut it once more and gave a small nod. "That's alright. Take your time, Edd. And uh...thanks." He replied. Edd simply nodded and shut the door behind him, effortlessly waving off the security guard's concern.

 

"I need to place a call with Matt. Move them to the lounge and keep an eye on them. Don't attack unless they are showing hostility." Edd ordered, listening to them fumble with the locks before brushing a hand over his face and finally taking notice of just how erratic his breathing was.

 

_He needed to talk with Matt._

* * *

Slamming his door shut and making sure it was locked, Edd gripped at his chest and attempted to calm his breathing. Why had he thought those things after meeting back up with Mark? He was doing perfectly fine before, those looming thoughts had appeared out of nowhere. His eyes frantically searched for the radio that he had tossed somewhere, feeling a want, a _need_ to call Matt. The strawberry blond would find a way to calm him down, he always did.

 

His hands brushed mindlessly over the table, his vision blurring as he heaved for air; _where?_ His frustration of not being able to remember where he had placed the radio was adding on to the panic, causing him to breathe even faster. Hissing in pain when a shard of glass stuck through his shoe, he ignored the pain, _it would fade soon_. Edd could barely recognise the small radio and fumbled to grip at it, clicking the signal on. "Ma- _Matt-_ " He whined into the radio, hoping the other would pick up.

As if it were by luck, the voice of the other Brit immediately filled the speakers as a sense of warmth filled his body, calming him just a little. _"Edd? What's wrong? Judging by your heavy breathing, I assume you had another panic attack?"_ Matt questioned, and Edd could just about imagine the frown on the other's face.

 

He gave a hum and gasped for air once more, his fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing, begging, _clawing_ their way into his chest. It hurt, it hurt, _everything hurt_. He just wanted Matt to come over; he knew it was selfish of him to force the other to cancel the mission, but his brain just wasn't helping his body. _"Hey hey, it's okay. You're fine, just keep talking to me. What happened?"_

 

Edd could barely get a grip on his breathing, but managed to stutter a response to the male. "Well, you know how I wanted to-to get the paperwork done, so we could send it off to the governme-government?" He paused there to take a breath, silently thanking the Lord when Matt gave a small hum to reassure him that he was indeed listening. "Gray came by and informed me of some new people that wan-wanted to apply for our rebellion...."

 

There was a pregnant pause on both sides before Matt gently spoke up. _"Did something happen?"_ He questioned.

 

"N-No, no, everything is fine! I was just star-startled when I saw who they were." Edd replied, continuing when the Brit didn't say a word. "Eduardo and Mark." He spoke, feeling his voice crack when he remembered just when his panic attack began.

 

He could head the sigh Matt gave and a bit of rustling but nothing else until the other spoke up. _"Christ. Did he do anything to you?"_

 

Edd gently shook his head dismissively. "Besides seizing me in a chokehold. I'm fine, the pani-panic didn't start until after I met up with Mark." He responded, gently closing his eyes to rid the spinning in his vision.

 

 _"Well, I'm coming home. Be prepared for my arrival."_ Edd's eyes flew open once he heard that and his heart rate spiked up in a panic once more.

 

"No, you don't ha-have to do that! I'll be fine on my o-own!" He protested.

 

 _"Edd, I'm not taking no for an answer. You've been really stressed out lately, and I haven't contributed to help. It's my job to make sure you're in tip top working order, now you stay put while I come back."_ The stern tone in Matt's voice made it clear that he had locked onto the idea and wasn't going to change his mind any time soon.

 

The brunet let out a soft huff in defeat before collapsing into his office chair, brushing a hand through his hair as he gave a soft smile. "I hate it when you d-do that..." He mumbled.

 

 _"And I love it because it always works."_ Matt replied as the Brit gave a small eye roll; he could practically hear the smug tone in the other's voice. _"Stay put, alright?"_

 

Edd had to fight off the urge to say something witty but gave in and agreed to his conditions. _"Do you feel any better, mentally?"_

 

"Yeah, a lot better. Thanks again." Edd murmured, an embarrassed heat flooding into his cheeks. He hated how Matt pitied him and put him above everything, but at the same time it felt...nice? _"Alright, my team is heading out. We should be there in about an hour or so; you fine with that?"_

 

It was calming to hear that Matt was going to be back a lot sooner than he expected, so Edd gave a nod. "Yeah. I'll be fine." He responded. _"Alright, see you then Edd."_

 

He gave a soft goodbye before clicking the signal back off and letting his eyes hover over the objects on his desk, contemplating whether he should take a quick nap or continue with the paperwork.

 

_Yeah, a nap sounded good right about now..._

 

Resting his head against the desk and closing his eyes, Edd could feel the last sparks of his panic attack fading away as his mind began to blank and he succumbed to slumber.

 

He was grateful to have Matt as a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did I do with Matt's overprotective ass? Was it too much?
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> Also, yay! Eduardo and Mark are officially in the story; give them a warm welcome everyone! Let me know if they were ooc, I think they were.
> 
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> Anyway, please leave a comment! It powers me and helps me work harder to churn these chapters out for you guys <3


	7. Let's Sit Down And Have A Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment his foot left the cozy office room doorway, he was met with a chilling sensation that ran down his body, glancing down at his shaking hands as he locked the door. The walk to Patryk's office was agonizing, Tom constantly had disapproving thoughts buzzing through his mind as he turned a corner, just catching sight of the door. It was getting closer and closer, and Tom almost couldn't get a grip on his breathing. Composing himself to appear like his usual suave self, the brunet took in a deep breath and knocked.
> 
>  
> 
> _"Door's open!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry for the month long delay, I had mad writer's block for the pacing of this chapter!
> 
> Just let it be known that I am not a qualified therapist and whatnot, I'm just getting these questions off of the internet. I also changed the spacing of this chapter so tell me if you like it and I'll change it for previous chapters. Anyway, as always, enjoy!

The moment his foot left the cozy office room doorway, he was met with a chilling sensation that ran down his body, glancing down at his shaking hands as he locked the door. The walk to Patryk's office was agonizing, Tom constantly had disapproving thoughts buzzing through his mind as he turned a corner, just catching sight of the door. 

_What's he gonna ask you? He's seen how tense you look whenever Tord mentions that incident, he's gonna question it. Quit scratching, you're making it obvious._

The Brit immediately lowered his sleeve at the voice and ceased scratching at his arm, resorting to fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat. _What if he asks you about Matt and Edd? What then?_

_Change the topic, easy._

_You know that won't work, Thomas._

He winced at the way the voice hissed his name, he hated how it reminded him of when Tord would always call him by his full name. Lifting his head to gaze out of his small bangs, he noted that the door was getting closer and closer, and Tom almost couldn't get a grip on his breathing. Composing himself to appear like his usual suave self, the brunet took in a deep breath and knocked.

_"Door's open!"_

Pushing the door open, Tom peeked his head through the doorway and cautiously scanned Patryk's office. Unlike the other right hand man, his office was actually tidy and neat, and lacked any sort of army-esque designs. If Tom had to be honest, if he hadn't known it was an office, he would have mistaken it for the Polish man's quarters. "Ah, Tom. Would you like to take a seat?" Patryk gently asked, pushing aside paperwork to make room on a chair by his side.

Tom reluctantly sat down and tried his best to resist itching at his arm, instead shuffling his feet across the floor. "S-So, uh, what's the plan?" He mentally cursed himself for stuttering, but it seemed that the dark haired adult didn't pay any mind to it, and instead grabbed a clipboard. _Oh hey look, you know what's gonna follow this!_

"I'm just going to ask you a couple questions and I'd like you to answer them as truthfully as possible, understand?" Patryk explained, digging through the mug by the side of his computer for a pen. The brunet recognised the kind tone in his voice, it was a thing all therapists shared. 'To make sure the patient feels more comfortable' he had heard; pfft, yeah right. _You know why they really do that, don't you Tom?_

Despite those dark thoughts lingering in his head, Tom managed to nod in response to the question. "Am I allowed passes?" He inquired, flinching slightly when Patryk lifted his head to look at him in confusion.

"Hm?" He hummed, scanning the other's body language. Tom seemed to be fidgeting a lot which meant he was anxious about the questions and slightly embarrassed about his request. "Sorry, this is my first session, so you'll have to elaborate."

The Brit had to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at the man; seriously? This was his first time at the job? How the heck was he so good at it? Tom took a small breath to try and ease his comfort and pressed his hands together, feeling them begin to sweat the longer he was put on the spot. "You know, li-like if I don't want to answer a personal question at the time, I get a pass and we can skip it?" He explained the best he could.

Patryk nodded thoughtfully and crossed his legs together, leaning the clipboard on his lap and clicking the pen on. "We can do that. Just let me know, alright?" He answered, continuing when the brunet gave him a nod. "Are you ready to begin?"

Tom paused instantly, feeling his heart race at the question. In all honesty, no. No, he wasn't ready. In fact he was terrified; could he even trust Patryk? Would he just leak all of this to a certain Norwegian?

Almost as if he read his mind, Patryk gave a gentle smile and relaxed his position, so to not cause Tom any more uncomfortableness. "Don't worry, this information will stay between me and you. You have my word."

Despite how calmly and gently the man had said it, Tom still felt some unease between the two. He shrugged and gave in, it wasn't like he had another choice or something. "I'm up for it." He replied.

"Good." Patryk murmured with a soft nod, gazing down at the clipboard before lifting his gaze to look back at Tom. "I'm just going to ask you a couple questions, and if you feel the conversation is drifting into personal territory, feel free to steer it to another subject. First off, what brings you here, Tom?"

He couldn't help but snort at that; was this man dense or something? "Well, I don't really have a choice considering the commie forced me into this." Tom answered, feeling his smirk falter when the Polish man gave a frown.

"I'm asking for clarification. Why do you believe Red Leader required for you to take these sessions?" Patryk responded.

Tom hesitated in replying as he thought about the question; why _had _Tord wanted him to take therapy? All he really cared about was making Tom his strongest soldier, so why bother about emotions if he could just turn him into a mindless soldier? The brunet couldn't help but shiver at his own thought process, hoping Patryk hadnt noticed, and slowly answered. "I...actually don't know about that one myself. I mean, wouldn't he rather get straight to the training instead of wasting time on me? I don't get it."__

__Patryk nodded in understanding, scribbling a few notes down as he listened to Tom speak. "If I am being honest with you, Red Leader surprised me when he first asked me of it. I myself don't understand why he would want you to take these sessions, but I hope they help you in any way."_ _

__Fiddling with some papers by his side, Tom absentmindedly nodded back as he waited for the second question. He listened to the quick scribbles on the pen on paper; Patryk was a fast writer, before the man lifted his head to ask the second question. "You seem pretty comfortable sharing information with me, considering your situation. Are you complying simply because you have to, or you want to? You also have a good understanding of how this works, due to your prior statement about passes. Have you seen any counselors beforehand?_ _

__He hesitated before answering that, Patryk had said he wouldn't release any of this to Tord right? What did he have to lose? "I guess its just...you seem like a pretty comfortable guy to talk about my problems with." Tom replied, blushing in embarrassment. "I-I mean because things have been hectic lately, so I haven't really gotten the chance to talk about it. And, uh...yeah. A few months after the incident, I started therapy."_ _

__Patryk nodded, pausing briefly to take notes of the other's words. "Is it alright if I ask why you took therapy?" He questioned, frowning softly at a mistake on the paper._ _

__Frowning and gripping onto the fabric of his trousers, Tom growled a one worded reply. "Pass." He expected the dark haired adult to press on with the question, but was quite surprised to see that he gave a nod and dug through the drawers for something._ _

__"That's alright with me. It's good that you're admitting to what topics you want to talk about and ones you aren't comfortable speaking about." Patryk observed, not noticing how flushed Tom's face became after that. He hadn't gotten compliments in any of his sessions before, so he was taken aback by the praise and soft spoken questions. "Would you like some water?"_ _

__Tom glanced over at the water bottle in the other's hand and debated whether or not he should take it. Eh, maybe it would calm that stupid blush of his. "...sure." He gave a shrug, leaning over to take it from his hands. As he twisted the cap open, he listened to the sound of pen and paper, taking a few sips from the bottle before screwing it back on._ _

"So, could you tell me what you think your personality may be?" Patryk gently asked, looking up from his clipboard to look at the Brit opposite him who was fiddling with the water bottle he had just been given.

Cocking an eyebrow at the question, Tom shrugged helplessly and answered. "I'm not really that nice of a guy, I suppose. I drink a lot, usually to…" He hesitated there, holding in a breath when the Polish man quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. "Never mind.." Tom mumbled, gripping onto the fabric of his jeans when Patryk gave a nod and returned to the clipboard. _Fuck, this guy is too good for his own good._

"Do you think you could add a bit more detail? You don't have to talk about things you aren't comfortable with, of course." He gently requested. _Stop being so nice to me!_

Tom gave a slow but shaky nod at the man's words, figuring he could try and trust him for now. I mean, he wasn't doing anything to piss him off, so that earned him a space in Tom's associates, right? "I enjoy exploring things with my friends, kinda reserved but I can sometimes get up and do things, you know?"

Patryk let out a low hum at the question, nodding in response. "So you think you're an ambivert?

Fiddling with his fingers at the question, he gave a helpless shrug. "Maybe."

"Who or what would you say is most important to you?" Patryk questioned, nodding at the second pass Tom had given. He still wasn't completely trusting him, but the man was fine with that; just gotta get closer to him and maybe he'll crack. "What would you say is the problem from your viewpoint?"

The Polish man looked up in surprise at the low snort the brunet opposite had given him, it wasn't a snort of amusement, but a snort of sarcasm. "Seriously? You think I'm okay with being here? You think I'm okay with being that fucker's damned **_pet_ **!?" Tom snapped, resisting the urge to grab Patryk by the collar of his shirt and instead squeezing his hands tightly around the neck of the water bottle. "I got kidnapped, taken into the most wanted army in the world and you come here asking what I think the problem is!?"

Instead of snapping back at the man, Patryk simply gave him a tight smile and let the clipboard relax in his lap, not writing in it for once. "That confirms my suspicions, then." He said rather triumphantly. It made Tom start, tripping over his words a little before folding his brows in confusion.

"Then why the fuck did you ask me?" He asked in irritance.

Waving a teasing finger at the other, Patryk had to hold back the growing chuckle in his throat. " _Confirmation._ " He repeated, the sound of the brunet whining in annoyance satisfying him just briefly before he got back to work. "A lot of people tend to have a lot of emotions when a problem comes up, like sadness or hatred. For example, if someone receives a call that their parental figure has died, they are filled with-"

"The five stages of grief…" Tom interrupted, his voice hushed and rather quiet than the previous outburst he had. He has ceased squeezing the bottle and resorted to pulling at the label instead, his eyes dropped to the floor; Patryk must have struck a nerve.

Deciding against pushing the matter further, the dark haired male picked the clipboard off of his lap so he could cross his leg over his lap. "Correct. Everyone goes through a mood swing of emotions. With this in mind, is it alright if I ask you how this problem makes you feel?"

The office was filled with an eerie silence as the two males waited for Patryk to say something. The other was waiting patiently for Tom to either give an answer or mutter another pass. The silence was almost unbearable and Patryk was close to switching to the next question, when Tom answered it. "...at first, I was mad. Then, I guess...it just kinda...disappeared? Like, not completely, it's still there, of course. But it's not 100% hatred?" He said, his tone laced with uncertainty at his own words.

Humming once again, Patryk caught a glimpse of Tom relaxing a little in the seat and quickly jotted down **_'Humming seems to calm him.'_ ** before raising his head to look back at him. "I understand." He nodded. "May I ask if you have anxiety?"

"Pa….y-yes…" Tom whispered, his voice defeated. He was clearly trying to avoid using another pass, and that was an improvement, Patryk guessed. Avoiding passes meant he was opening up more, and improving slowly.

Giving another nod at the answer, Patryk noted it down in the clipboard. "Is it heightened enough to cause panic attacks?" He gently asked, quickly adding "You may use a pass if you want."

Once again, Tom had begun fiddling with the label uncomfortably. "Sometimes…" He admitted. "None of them have ever lasted an h-hour though…"

"Alright, you don't have to describe it to me, that is your privacy. What do you usually spot before such attacks?" Patryk questioned.

Another small chuckle escaped the brunet’s lips as he shuffled his foot across the floor. "Can't you see the symptoms already?" He growled, his fingers curling around the neck of the bottle.

Patryk took the time to look the male over; he was certainly beginning to sweat and his hands were trembling like crazy. No doubt a panic attack would rise, and he was sure that Tom wasn't comfortable with him being present to witness it. A quick glance at the clock made it clear it was past 4:30pm, so he supposed he could wrap it up here. "Okay, I've sort of gotten off topic a couple of times, and we've gone over the time limit so I only have one last question for you." _Lie._ "Some therapists recommend their peers with a few resolutions for their next meeting, thus creating a discussion for a later time. Would you like to set some goals?"

Tom's eyes snapped up to face the man the moment he began that sentence. _Peers._ He hadn't said _patients._ Why was that? The brunet could feel some of his anxiety lowering at the question, glad it wasn't another personal one. "Yes please." Shit. He hadn't meant to sound _that relieved._

It didn't seem that Patryk had noticed, because he just continued to write on the clipboard. "You can choose the goals." He announced, shrugging when Tom's eyes widened in surprise. "It's you I'm helping, not me. Take however long you need."

After getting confirmation that the Polish man wasn't being sarcastic, Tom began to think. He did want to set a few goals, but he wasn't sure he would be able to keep those goals. Fuck it, he'd just have to die trying at least. "For starters...probably not stuttering in my speeches would be a good thing." He began, his eyes trailing up to Patryk to check if he was even listening. He was so fucking lost, what to say now? "And...maybe, uh, not so much shaking?"

….

... _Really?_

"If you'd like, I'd prefer to add a goal of my own." Patryk gently added, ignoring the totally-not-a-goal that Tom had tried to set.

Raising an eyebrow just slightly, Tom lifted a hand to gesture at the other male, hoping to god he wouldn't notice how much his hands were shaking. _Fuck, could the ground just swallow him up whole?_ "Uh, sure thing." He replied with a shrug.

Patryk lifted his head to face Tom with a soft smile, placing the pen back onto the table and folding his hands in his lap. "You may have 6 passes at the most for each of the sessions during the next three months. We can gradually decrease the passes until you no longer use them. How does that sound to you?"

"Uh…" _Seriously, is that all you can say?_ "Sounds like a plan." Tom answered with a shrug.

Nodding in response, Patryk clicked the pen shut and placed it back into the mug. "That will be all for today. You need to get back to your paperwork." He said. _Tom needed to leave before he completely fell apart._

The Brit was slightly taken aback by the permission to leave, and he might have made it clear because he stood up as quick as he could, cursing himself mentally for doing so. "Alright. See you next time?" Tom said, lazily saluting the man.

Patryk let out a soft chuckle as he returned the salute, only more proper and less lazily. "See you next time." He simply said, before turning back to his computer and beginning to type away. Tom took the opportunity to grab the doorhandle and dart back into his office the fastest he could.

* * *

After double checking, and even triple checking, that the doors were locked, Tom let his body collapse against the hard wood door, immediately curling into himself and hiding his face under his arms.

_Too close, that was too close for comfort._

Forcing himself to hold back the tears that were threatening to stain his clothes, he squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to calm his rapidly increasing breathing.

_Breathe, Tom. You can do this._

Nodding at his thoughts, the brunet took a deep breath in, ignoring how his chest flared when he did, and held it in. He needed to calm down, he needed to get work done. Tom release the air in his lungs before taking in more oxygen.

 

In. Out. In. Out. In. In-

 

_Damnit!_

 

Tom gripped at his waistcoat, and tried again.

 

In. Out. Out-

 

_No!_

 

His eyes flitted to the piles of paperwork on the table. He needed to finish it. Who knows what would happen when he didn't? The sudden spots obscuring his vision confused him briefly, before he understood why.

 

He needed to breathe in.

 

_It wasn't working._

 

He just needed to try. Just like Matt had said; trying was better than not trying at all.

 

_Matt-_

 

Come on, breathe in damnit. You big idiot, breathe in!

 

Breathe, breathe breathebreathe _breathebreathebreathebrea-_

 

He collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, for once someone passes out because of a panic attack. Yay...? What do you think of the spacing? Should I continue with it? Also I need to cut it with the italics, I think I'm beginning to obsess over it-
> 
> Sorry for the long delay, I'll try not to make it so long next time!


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